


The Snow Angel

by blueboxesandtrafficcones



Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2017 [8]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 15:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12962592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones
Summary: Stuck on a snow-covered planet with the Ponds off adventuring, the Doctor remembers someone who used to love the snow.





	The Snow Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8 of 31 Days of Ficmas! Today - snowflake

He hates snow.

He’d never been particularly fond of the stuff, but no strong feelings either way, just a fact of the universe like Friday mornings.  Not that interesting, but not nearly as bad as Sundays.

And it’s easy to avoid, one way or another.  The TARDIS as always understands, and makes sure to (almost) never take him where there’s snow.  Or even really cold places, because that hurts just as much.

If the Ponds notice they don’t comment, likely chalking it up to prickly Time Lordiness.

Which is why when he steps out of the TARDIS into a thin layer of it, he spins to scowl at his ship.

“What did you do?” 

Rory blinked, exchanging concerned looks with his wife.  “Nothing?”

“Not you.”  The Doctor rolled his eyes.  “Her, the TARDIS.  Why’re we here?  Where is here, anyway?”  He looked around, noting the barrenness instead of the civilization he was hoping for.  There was nothing but bare trees, and snow.

Lots of snow.

For good measure he kicked the door, feeling an immediate pain in his toe and a flare of irritation from her across the bond between pilot and ship.

“Sorry, dear,” he muttered, before sighing.  “Sorry, Ponds, this isn’t where we were headed.  Let’s try again, shall we?”

He put his key in the lock, but it refused to turn.  “Oh, now you’re locking me out?  Brilliant.  What’re we supposed to do?”

The ship doesn’t deign to answer, and he sighed again.

“Right, Ponds.  Into town.  Let’s go.”

Picking a direction at random he marches off, hoping it will lead somewhere sooner or later.

-

Half an hour later, one still-irritated Time Lord and two shivering companions stumbled upon a winter festival of sorts.  There were traditionally winter baked goods for sale, lots of apple this and cinnamon that, in addition to all types of crafts.

At the sight of it the Doctor stopped, not believing his eyes.  He’d suspected on the walk where they might be, but to find he’d been right…

He wondered what he’d done to the TARDIS to deserve this level of cruelty.

“D’you know where we are?”  Amy asked, looking around with interest.  “Can we shop?”

“We’re on Frorth Six.  It’s the annual Winter Fair.  Shop if you like.”  The Doctor stalked over to the fountain, flopping down onto it and scowling at a happy couple a few feet away.

“What’s wrong?”  The Ponds sat next to him, one on either side.  Normally he was grateful for their presence, but right now he just wanted to be left alone with his grief.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been here before,” Rory guessed.

“Yes.”

“With someone who travelled with you before.”

“Yes.”

“Someone you miss.”

The Doctor turned his head slowly to the other man, seeing his age in his eyes.  Though Rory did a much better job that he did of pretending not to be millennia old, it still sometimes came through.

Just another reason to feel guilty.

He hesitated for a moment, before uncharacteristically for this regeneration sharing, “With every beat of my hearts.”

Rory’s eyes went wide and Amy gasped, but the cracked door immediately slammed shut on the topic.

“Go, have a good time, be a loving couple.  I can recommend the sleigh ride and the hot chocolate.  I’ll be here when you’re ready to go.”

Amy opened her mouth to argue but Rory beat her to it.  “If you’re sure.”

The Time Lord simply ignored them until they gave up and walked away, which took far longer than he would have liked.

His gaze kept coming back to the couple in the corner, slow dancing to the Christmas tunes piping into the square.  He was tall and she was blonde and though he knew it wasn’t them, the visual still tugged viciously at his heartstrings.

Looking anywhere but them, he tried desperately to distract himself from his memories, still burning brightly as if it had been ten minutes ago, not centuries.

The final straw came when the snowflakes began to fall.

One by one, they sprinkled down, and he felt each one that hit his skin as though they were knives to his hearts.  Each one brought a memory.

No matter how far or how fast he ran, the grief came for him, particularly in the snow, until all he could see was her.

That very first snowfall, her first trip to the past.  How hesitantly she’d stepped out into the powder, how awed she’d been by the entire experience.  Despite Gwyneth’s death and her own close call, she’d been utterly captivated by the flakes.  How beautiful she’d been in that dress (considering nothing).

The first time he’d taken her to Woman Wept and they’d spent hours exploring the icy surface as she helped him see it another way, had healed one of many small wounds that remained in the immediate aftermath of the Time War.

The first time he’d brought her here, too much of a coward still to tell her what was already carved so deeply into his hearts.

Christmas 2007, when that him had been so new and eager to please, looking at her with stars in his eyes and love in his hearts when she agreed to stay with him.

Their return to Woman Wept where he’d bared his soul to her, scars and all, while she held him close and first promised him forever.

Their return here, ice skating and drinking hot chocolate, shopping and laughing before going home and making love in front of the fireplace in the library.

The hundred other places he’d taken her just to see her light up at the sight of the frozen water; she’d loved the snow, and he loved her, and the two became permanently linked in his memory.

That New Years Day, when he’d been so tired and sick, wanting to give up, to only see her face one last time, hear her voice.  If he hadn’t been in so much pain, there was a very real chance he’d ask her to run away with him; in the snow, he rather thought she might’ve.

His torturous slog down memory lane was abruptly ended by the paper cup thrust in his face.

“Here, you look half-frozen.”  The Doctor automatically accepted the cup, taking a sip and savoring the hot chocolate before turning to the stranger.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” she smiled, a bright grin that made his own lips twitch up.

“Why’d you give this to me?”  He wanted to know, and she rolled her eyes.

“Looked like you could do with a hot drink.”

“Okay?”  Still confused, the Doctor looked at her suspiciously.  “Did Amy and Rory send you over?”

“No.  They your current companions?”

“Yes.  Who are you?”  She seemed familiar on a fundamental level, like her very soul was calling to him.

Her eyebrow quirked, before realization dawned.  “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Should I?”  He peered at her carefully, heart lurching when he realized that he hadn’t imagined it; she looked just like Rose.  Well, Rose with ginger hair.  “I…”

The woman took pity on him.  “I’m Sarah.”

He only blinked at her, a dull roaring in his ears matching the way his time senses were going haywire.

Her smile faltered, eyes flicking behind him several times.  “You are the Doctor, aren’t you?”

He nodded slowly, mind racing.  “Yeah, I am.  And you’re…”

“Your daughter,” she finished, biting her lip just as Rose did.  “Yours and Rose’s.”

His hearts stopped, before picking up double time.  He’d always wondered, the smallest kernel of doubt niggling in the back of his mind.

“Shouldn’t you be-”

“In Pete’s World?  I grew up there.  And now I’m here.”  She smiled kindly at him, letting him gape like a stunned mackerel.

“Alone?”  He managed, still trying to process the idea.

“No.”

It wasn’t the girl – his _daughter_ – who spoke.

He spun to see the person behind him who had, and was somehow still shocked to see her.

_Rose._

His mouth moved, but no sound came out as he stared desperately at her, wondering if he’d finally once and for all gone off the deep end.

She looked just as she always had, young and pretty, pink and yellow.

And she was here.

“How-”

“Does it matter?”  Rose asked simply.  “I’m home, and I brought our daughter with me.  Isn’t that enough?  At least for now?”

He nodded slowly, unable to believe his eyes, certain he was about to wake up from a wonderful, horrible nightmare.

His still stunned reaction must not have been very reassuring, because Rose bit her lip and glanced around him at the girl – Sarah.

“Doctor-”

“Are you really home?  This isn’t a dream?”  He burst out, and Rose shrugged shyly.

“Yes.  I mean, if you want.”

He didn’t know why it had taken him so long, but them being here in front of him explained so much; why the TARDIS had come here, why she’d refused to leave.

She knew.

“I love you.”

After so many centuries of holding the words in, of regretting missing his chance, the Doctor took the moment sitting in front of him.

Rose lit up, smiling widely that smile he loved so much, a hint of tongue peeking out.

“I love you too.”

Leaning forward, he brought one hand up to cradle her head as he pulled her towards him.  Their lips met in the middle, and it was as magical and inevitable as their very first.  As their mouths met again and again, he brought his other hand up to brush her temple; when she leaned her head firmly into the touch he connected their minds, diving deeply into the only place that had ever felt like home.

Over their temporary bond, they sent all the love in their hearts to each other.  The Doctor received all her worries and grief, her fear of starting over again with only their daughter.  Rose was almost overwhelmed by his grief and loneliness, by how desperately he’d missed her.

“Excuse me?”

Amy’s voice jolted him out of the kiss, fingers slipping from Rose’s temple and dropping their connection.

“What, Pond?”  He snapped, turning to give her a glimpse of the Oncoming Storm.

“What’s going on here?  We leave you alone for an hour and come back to find you snogging a random girl.  What gives?”

“I’m Rose,” the random girl interrupted.  “You are?”

“Rory, and she’s Amy,” Rory jumped in, placing a calming hand on his wife’s arm.

“I’m guessing he’s never mentioned me?”  Rose asked, lips quirking at their confused looks.  That hurt a bit, but she got it – especially knowing how everything had gone down with Martha.  Still, she understood now Sarah Jane’s anger when they’d first met.

“Nope.  Maybe you’re not as important as you thought?”  Amy crossed her arms, giving the blonde a smirk as her husband sighed.

“Possibly,” Rose considered.  “I’m only the mother of his child.  But it has been centuries.”  She shrugged, as though she hadn’t just knowingly dropped a bomb.

“You are not,” Amy gasped in disbelief.

Smirking now herself, Rose pointed around the Doctor.  “That’s Sarah – our daughter.  We’ve been away, sort of, but we’re back now.”

“Right.”  Before Amy could say anymore, the Doctor jumped in, babbling away.

“Right!  So, let’s head back to the TARDIS, yeah?  We can discuss this more after the girls are settled.”

“Sounds perfect,” Rose commented, jumping to her feet.  “Then we can materialize your TARDIS around ours, keep her safe since she won’t work here.”

“Wrong energy source,” the Doctor realized, taking her hand and lacing their fingers as though no time had passed.

“Yep,” Rose and Sarah said in unison, popping the ‘p’ as he used to before bursting into giggles.

The three headed off, the Doctor trusting the Ponds to follow.  They’d only taken a few steps before snowflakes began to fall again, and he turned to Rose in time to see her pause to close her eyes and tilt her head back, tongue out to catch a stray flake.

Walking towards the TARDIS with Rose on one side and their daughter on the other, he couldn’t help but remember all the good history he had with this specific type of precipitation.

He loves snow.


End file.
